No one’s priority

He said he was sorry for not being able to show up.  He wasn’t able to get away.  He is married and he has small children.  Did I fall in love, or is it lust with this man? I was drawn in by the soft gentleness he exhibits with his children. He is so kind and loving; I wanted to feel that kind of love, I wanted to be one of them.  And for once, feel that kind of attention. But life is way more complicated than that. I told him not to worry about it. I never want to add stress to his life. In fact I never want to add stress to anyone’s life. I have been accepting apologies and enabling people my whole life, allowing those who are close to me to hurt me. I had an epiphany that day when he said he was sorry as he often had said before. The epiphany is that I am willing to be seconds or even thirds because I have never been anyone’s priority.

That makes me an amazing wife, since my husband can put work, the kids, his parents…anything ahead of my needs. How easy and carefree for him, to have his personal attendant, who requires nothing back. Oh, and the kids, the ones I pretty much raised alone, since dad was so busy at building his ego with the accolades of his job. Well, any parent knows raising children is thankless. I don’t really even want them to make me their priority anyway, but if their dad would have shown some to me, maybe they would know how to care about me, not just want something from me. But it doesn’t matter, because they are grown now and they are givers like I am. I hope they find givers back.

I suppose I can thank my parents in some way for the role I have played.Stuck between the beloved older sister and pampered little brother, I was the classic over achieving, peace keeping, ”please look at me” middle child. After a while you start believing there really is nothing you can do that IS good enough. Not the good grades, not the starring role in the school play, which no one came to see, not even marrying the man they wanted me to marry. Then the cycle of family life began. The kids, the job, the house, the bills.  I was in it, good!  So I did it, I did what all I had to do. This was most everything. She is so capable!

Fast forward and the kids are grown, but nothing else has changed. The result of being no one’s priority is a desperate loneliness with which I have a hard time putting onto the page. The feeling is so strong, at times, it consumes me. My only escape from it is to distract from it, such as in the form of my sweet friend, who when he is not being a dad, is often times texting me with indecent thoughts. For hours we chat, and speak about nothing. The rare times we can see each other, we hardly say a word, and the energy consumes us both, with quiet inhales and intense holds of tangled arms and silent breaths. I am filling his void, just like he fills mine.

Why do I let him? You would not ask if you had understood the desperation I feel. One is willing to take a corner of moldy bread when they are starving.

Reflections of a young, strained marriage

I’m not sure what I expected out of my marriage.  Fireworks?  Love? Romance 24/7?  I may have gotten love, but not the other two. I get down on myself for possibly knowing (albeit subconsciously) before we got married that I wouldn’t have fireworks and romance, but willfully chose to ignore it under the guise of possibly being happy/living “happily ever after.” I blame myself. I blame myself for our sexless, strained relationship. I get angry with myself for not being clearer to myself on what I wanted out of a husband and honestly evaluating him more closely. I criticize myself for not opening up my eyes wider and realizing the situation.

My husband makes me laugh almost every day, but there’s no physicality to us.  I have to solicit hugs and kisses. I’ve done it so much I’m starting to seriously resent it and not care if I get a good night/good bye kiss, hug, etc. anymore.  We’ve been married for almost a year and have had sex once in the last 4 months. I wonder if the spark is gone, if he’s not attracted to me anymore, if it’s something I’ve done. If it’s none of these things, which may be even worse. If he just didn’t have a reason. Just a lost desire. I’ve tried well over a dozen times to initiate intimacy with no success. It’s started to wear on me. It hasn’t started; it HAS worn me down.

Is this my fate? Will I be in this relationship limbo for the rest of my life? Will I end up divorced and just a statistic? I don’t want to hurt anyone, but at what point do I realize I’m hurting myself too much? If I had to rate the percentage of the time I am happy it would be less than half. I either am worried about my husband (what he’s thinking, feeling, doing, etc) or concerned with my actions and what he’ll think of them, or the like.

Am I legally bound to live with regrets for the rest of my life? Should I have made a different decision? Is this REALLY what life is supposed to be like? Walking on eggshells and hating myself for it and the reasons behind it? Me cow-towing to his every request and whim, hoping and praying it will make him like me more? What kind of sixth grade logic is that? That’s like doing your classmate’s homework hoping they’ll notice you or ask you to the dance afterwards. It doesn’t happen. Why can’t I remember that when I’m an emotional wreck? Why can’t I just take care of myself first and best? Why can’t he be more responsive when I try to address our problems?

In an effort of self-preservation, I’m wondering about the possibility of seeking physical gratification elsewhere. My husband has once joked that if I’m so sexually needy maybe I should hire someone to take care of my needs. I think he was joking. Sometimes I think he wasn’t, though. However, joking or not, the situation has recently presented itself. An old flame. One of those “we almost had sex but never did” partners. If we would have had one more time together it probably would have gotten that far. However, he’s not “the one that got away.” Just someone I was/am fiercely attracted to (and he to me) but never went “all the way.” We were never devoted to one another, it was a fleeting relationship of convenience, but a powerful one. More serious, long-term relationships and statuses got in the way of pursuing something further than just making out, unfortunately. He made a last plea to me in the months leading up to my wedding last year: asking me if there was any chance I wasn’t going to get married, if there was some room for him in my life before I did, that he’d be willing to travel to me if I could spend even one night with him. I easily wrote him off and said no. I hadn’t thought of him much since the wedding until he emailed me about 10 days ago. Several flirtatious emails later, we have a date set to meet. We don’t live in the same city (or time zone) but he is making a special trip to where I live for one day only. After all, we only need one day.

I’m trying to rationalize if sleeping with him will make me feel better about my life. Will it fill one of my voids? I feel like I have so many and I’m desperate to plug them. I just want to feel better. Will meeting this person, whom I don’t know very well but feel semi-strongly toward, make me partially whole? Will it make me less resentful to my husband for neglecting me? Will it make the lack of sex and excitement more palatable? Will it make it OK?  Is it worth risking? Is there in fact any risk involved? He really has no risk, his wife (he also is a newlywed, but only of two months) will never know, she has no potential of “catching” him. He’s away on business, something he regularly does. It won’t raise any alarm bells with her. But with me, there are hazards.

What will I tell my husband? I can’t exactly tell him “hey hon, I’m fed up with your bullshit and lack of any sex drive or feelings towards me, so I’m going to go spend a (what definitely promises to be) blissful Friday with this man who is physically superior to you in almost every way?” Instead, I’m already coming up with a lie. A situation that won’t raise eyebrows and that’s plausible enough to get me a day to myself without any contact for 8-10 hours. I want to be selfish, something I’m never afforded. I want to enjoy myself. I want to be pampered and appreciated. I want to be touched. What I don’t want is to be reminded I’m in a crappy marriage with no possibility of children (a whole ‘nother issue, for sure) with no hope of anything changing. And if I do get caught, what will the repercussions be? If you neglect someone for nearly a year, what can you honestly expect to happen? For them to stop what feels natural to them and deprive them of physical pleasure?

And no, this isn’t just about sex. It’s about the emotionally gratifying responses that sex brings. I’ve been in a better mood since I started emailing with my “friend” than I have been in the past two months. When we finally set a date I was ecstatic. I bounced around all day with anticipation and excitement. Our date is in two weeks and I fully expect to be in a happy mood until then. After all, half of the joy of any big event is the anticipation leading up to it. I’m thinking of what I’ll wear to meet him, how I’ll do my hair, if I should get it cut, etc. I feel giddy, something I haven’t felt since before I got married.

If I do cheat on my husband and it does satisfy part of whatever’s missing inside me, what happens when it’s a long time until I get it again? Will I delve into a deeper depression? Will this tryst become a “gateway drug” of sorts and just make me want more the next time? Where does it stop? Should I even worry about it?

picture courtesy of Google Images

The end of a love

The end of a love. It’s like involuntary open heart surgery. It is a violent thrashing, trying to get in. A big hand reaching into the chest, pulling, pulling. It is digging, stretching the cavity.  Screams in protest. Crying, hands flailing. Hands are weapons, beating the offender away. At once confused and terrified, the heart, fighting and surrendering to the dark force that yet sheds light upon the gaping wound. A routine surgery, heard behind veiled words of comfort. In the struggle, the mind numbs, preparing for the end it has long since known. The heart, beating ever faster, trying to survive out of its shell, is now visible. Dark, red, throbbing, needing its home. It beats tha thamp. Tha thamp, tha thamp. Mucuous fills the lungs, a futile attempt to compensate. The heart, exposed, beats on. Red, clogging, will not stop. A fierce pull, the hand, yanking. Again.  It’s too late, they say. The big hand is reaching again, and the heart, although weakened by struggle, beats harder.

Thinking about it

I’m thinking about it.  By thinking, I mean daydreaming, getting swept away, practically having an entire relationship in my head that will most likely never exist.  But man, do I love thinking about it. About him, I mean. Yes, I know affairs are terrible, everyone gets hurt, blah, blah, blah.  The external reasons don’t matter to me as much as the internal ones–I’d like to think I’d never hurt my husband like that. It’d kill me to see his sad face and know that I caused it.  But I still think about it.

There’s nothing “wrong” with my own marriage.  Unless you count sex.  We love each other, like each other, he’s my best friend. We cuddle, listen, we’re pretty sickening actually.  Except that no matter how much he’d like to; he can’t. I can see the frustration and sadness in his face.  We always hug, hold hands, stand close, but when I’m alone I’ll nearly start crying I need to be touched so badly. It’s killing him and it’s killing me.  When we do finally have sex (once a month would be a dream at this point), it’s fabulous; it always has been.  But the times in between are getting further and further apart and I’m dying.

Pills don’t work. What does seem to work is having very little stress and all the time in the world, and when is that likely?  He’s mentioned how crazy he feels, how he’s cheating me, how sometimes he wants to tell me to find someone else.  But I’d feel like I was leaving a war buddy to die; we’re in this together.  Except that I can’t help but feel like it’s me.  How this might be easier if I knew he were having an affair, or were gay, or something that told me he just didn’t like me “that way” and we’d be better off as friends and could leave it at that. Or I’ll wish male prostitutes existed, since maybe that would be a discreet option.  I start thinking crazy things.

Like this new friend, who I think I only daydream about because he has so much in common with my husband–similar quirks that are so endearing.  Only this one, in my fantasies, isn’t broken.  Is that terrible to say?  Am I broken and ungrateful for having a wonderful relationship and wanting more?  I know sex isn’t supposed to be important, but I believe that in the same way I believe people who say they forget the pain of childbirth: umm, maybe for you.

Why did it have to be sex?  How am I supposed to deal with this?  How can we deal with this together?  How can I make myself not want sex?  I’m dying.  I don’t know how to cope. So for now, I just think.

 

 

photo courtesy of Google Images

Trapped like a rat

“Yes, that about sums it up.  I’m trapped like a rat, more than once, and I’m not sure what to do about it.  Pass the cheese, won’t you, and hear my sad tale.
It began well over 25 years ago, with a wonderful marriage to the woman of my dreams.  Smart, funny, well traveled, well educated, vivacious — and so was she.  A match made in Heaven, right here on Earth.  Well, there was that little issue with her near-complete lack of libido, but hey, love conquers all.  I can get by on once a month, right?
Well, once a month became every couple of months, and then once in a blue moon.  Our son, born five years after our marriage, was rightly considered a ‘miracle child’ because it was a miracle he was ever conceived.  Through all of this, I soldiered on.  I’d given my word, and I take that sort of thing seriously.
But after 25 years of marriage, I was told that she was no longer interested in me as a man.  I was merely a wallet with legs, a companion for cold nights, and nothing else.  I did my best to talk her into something she’d regret later, but alas, the pleading and whimpering was mine alone.  Finally, after three or four years of having to listen to my pained whimpers, she reached her breaking point, and told me to “”find some trixie who can put up with you.”"
Despite the fact I am homely enough to frequently scare small children, I finally did manage to find somebody crazy enough to put up with my needs and the fact that I have a family I cannot walk out on.  I helped her work through her issues with her own openly hostile family, and she helped me with my complete lack of physical affection.  For over four years, my friend and I would struggle with her depression and social anxiety issues, and share the kind of closeness usually reserved for married couples.
Unfortunately, I don’t think she’s winning her struggle with her mental health issues.  As her doctors change her medications in an effort to help her cope with her demons, she has lost her interest in me as more than a companion.  Once again, I find myself rubbing backs, and feet, and necks, and not much else.  I now have two women in my life who cannot help me with my physical needs, and whom I will not abandon.  There are days when I think that having my friend’s mental issues would be a blessed relief, but that wasn’t how I was raised.  You give your word, you keep it.  And bearing in mind that definition of love in which the happiness of another is more important than your own, I suspect I am content with being a good husband, and a good friend.
Pass the cheese, won’t you?  This Havarti is especially good today….”

Cheating.

imageI am thinking about, and probably will be sleeping with a man other than my husband. And it feels perfectly okay. So how did I get to this point?

I have not had sex with my husband in years and he hasn’t kissed me, like French kissed me since the year we were married which was a very very long time ago. I have asked. Talked about it. Cried. Begged. And mentioned counseling only to be told firmly ‘no way in hell’. I try to look pretty, smell nice hug him, hold him hand, encourage him, tell him I find him sexy and all the other little things people do to let their partner know that they are ready, willing and able to make love. And still we have none. Well, maybe once a year he will get  do his thing. But I haven’t had an orgasm in many years. And he doesn’t care. And I am aching to have someone make love to me. Someone to hold me and tell me I am beautiful. To tell me I matter. To SHOW me how strongly he cares about me. To make EYE contact with me. I need it. Badly.

Yes there are children. And therefore I must stay in my marriage. And the man I am going to be sleeping with? He is also married, but no children. We have been very clear that neither of us have intentions to leave our spouses and run away together. We are grown ups. We understand what this is about. We know that this is certain to end in some painful way- because there is no where to go with this sort of relationship.

And yet? I have never been happier in all my life. For the first time in my entire life, I feel completely and totally loved. Like wholly. Through and through. I can’t explain it, nor do I want too….but this pending affair has just about saved my life.


I condoned it.

imageMy friend is having an affair. She sprung it on me recently after I noticed some "anonymous" flowers on her counter. She can’t lie to me, and so I got the truth. We talked about it at length, and the fact that she has never ever done anything like this before. In fact, she has always been the moral compass of our friendship, the great advisor, the "snap-out-of-it" advice-giver when I went astray. But now it’s her turn to have a dilemma, and as much as I knew I should, I couldn’t tell her what I should have: that the affair is wrong, and that she should end it as quickly as humanly possible!

Why? Well, partly it’s because there are no children involved. And mostly, it’s because I like the fact that she finally has color in her face, a smile gracing her lips, and a spring in her step. The victim of a long-time lying, cheating, over-drinking husband who left her for an over-drinker with a 4th grade education (go figure) after 20 plus years of marriage, my friend has tried dating eligible men, only to get some real weirdos. One guy keeps calling a couple of times each year telling her he just needs to finish getting out of debt, then he can come sweep her off her feet. Really? We’re talking about nearly a decade of these odd "I love you, someday we’ll be together" calls. She would cut them off, except that they are so amazingly interesting to receive and muse over. Another guy wanted to take her out of the country because he was in love with her–after one date! And that’s just two of the many odd guys who have attempted to court her.

Enter Mr. Anonymous. He’s kind, funny, thoughtful, and guilty. He’s never cheated before either (no, really), and I suspect he will make a move when he can. I get the feeling that there are complicated financial entanglements keeping him from making an immediate leap…that, and the fact that his wife, like him, is approaching the twilight years, and he doesn’t want to derail her life anymore than he already has. It’s not her fault she’s not interested in intimacy anymore, while he still is. It’s not her fault they no longer have common interests, and that he has found some with another.

And before you leap to the logical conclusion—that my friend is the "younger" woman…she is not, not by a long stretch. They are close in age, and seemingly kindred in spirit. Perhaps I wasn’t a good friend when we spoke–but I just didn’t have the heart to burst her happiness bubble.

The Bitch (Follow-Up)

imageI wrote a couple weeks ago about my husband’s affair with his ex girlfriend.

We are trying to work things out. When I say "trying" I mean, marriage therapy and lots of talking and crying (on my part mostly). He is giving the effort that I expect of him and it is getting better. After a year of depression, I also started on anti depressants which has certainly helped with the emotional eating and the weight.

However, his ex mistress continues to read my twitter feed and blog regularly (300+ times since I started it late last year). As soon as I open my Google Analytics pops up, that little green map stares at me.

It was too much so I put a simple status on Twitter saying "please stop reading my blog, you know who you are", to which she sent me a note telling me that after everything she’s gone through she’s "earned" the right to keep tabs on me and my husband.

What she has gone through???

My heart was ripped out from my chest, I had to make choices that I never expected to have to make, I developed a pill, alcohol and food addiction that caused me to look and feel miserable. Every day I have images in my head of her having sex with the man that I’m married to…

What she’s been through!!??? She’s "earned" the right?

The only she’s earned is a bad reputation.

Longing

imageI long for a time when we are no longer prejudiced against gays and lesbians. I long for a time when "coming out" is a milestone, rather than a horrendous experience in which one risks everything simply to be honest about themselves, and then loses a few "friends" in the process. I long for a time when we realize that child molesters are in a league all by themselves, and that a gay or lesbian teacher is no more likely to seduce our children than a heterosexual teacher. I long for a time when men can hold hands with men, and women can entwine fingers–in public–without getting any attention, other than admiring eyes who enjoy others who enjoy each other. I long for a time when Christians realize that being homosexual is not a lifestyle choice, nor is it an aberration to be cast out with the demons.

I long for a time when a mother does not need to worry about how the world will treat her homosexual child when they finally realize the truth, because I am that mother, and it is killing me to see my child struggling with something they are afraid to admit.


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The elusive O.

imageI am thirty years old. I’ve never had an orgasm.

Oh, I’ve had lots of sex. 10 years’ worth. But no orgasm. I didn’t wait until I was 20 on purpose either. I had a boyfriend from 17-19 who I wanted to sleep with, but he was waiting for marriage. Apparently "waiting for marriage" means "up to one thrust from sex" is okay. There was lots of fumbling and rubbing and smooshing and touching and stuff – but no orgasms. At least, not for me.

I’m married. I really enjoy my husband. I enjoy having sex with him. But no orgasm. Never any orgasm. At least, not for me.

I told him, once. For some reason, I was embarrassed to say it out loud to a man I regularly have sex with – "I have never had an orgasm." I don’t fake orgasms. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him. It was, though.

Unfortunately, he didn’t view my confession as a challenge. He’s rather competitive, and can do anything he sets his mind to. Maybe he’s scared that he would fail. I wouldn’t mind if he’d try though. I bet we’d have a lot of fun.

It seems like I have two options: figure out the big O for myself or continue an existence that is full of sex that is rather enjoyable but never quite entirely satisfying.

I’m going with the first choice. And I’m accepting recommendations for vibrators.